


Pastels And Paints

by 1JettaPug



Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: "Do you still enjoy Rainbow Lattes?"





	

It was a dreary morning, rain clattering against the windows of his one bedroom flat. The walls surrounding him were covered in a black and white fancy wallpaper, the designs on it dipped down into points. Dark curtains were drawn and the only source of distinguishable light was coming from a few dim lamps. Sketchbooks and canvases littered the floor and created piles stacked around the room. There were art books stacked atop a coffee table and any other surface available in the flat. The entire place gives off an artistic and lonely vibe.

When one of the lights in the lamps suddenly blew out, Roy G. Bivolo snapped up from his light slumber. He woke up with a raging headache, warranting a groan when he turned around and contemplated staying in bed the whole day. Why not, he thought, he'd done it many times before. However, the empty canvas mocking him from across the room reminded him of what he wanted to get accomplished today.

Giving a little huff, Roy tore his nice, warm sheets off of his body and got up. Right away, he started shivering because his damn heater was broken. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced down at his clock. Four in the morning… It was way too early for this shit.

He slipped on his slippers and walked across his wooden floor, hand tiredly reaching for his closet door. He changed out of his pajamas and threw on some clothes, a pair of jeans and black shirt.

He shuffled into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. After slowing watching him dying coffee maker spit out the last bit of his drink, he grabbed the cup and slouched down on his beat-up, old couch. His eyes went back to that blank canvas. It was laughing at him! 

Roy sighed, softly.

 _No,_ he thought, _that was the lack of sleep making it seem that way…_

After a good, long yawn, he took a sip of his shitty coffee and picked up yesterday’s newspaper. Right away, Roy took notice of the front page article.

_‘Fires Put Out In A Flash!’_

Ughhhh, he couldn’t care less about the Flash even if he tried. The picture was Flash holding a child and a puppy in his arms. Roy skipped the rest of the front page.

Slowly but surely, his eyes inched off the paper and back to the canvas. Roy growled and balled up the paper. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat and now he couldn’t read! Why couldn’t he find the inspiration to start this piece and put it away with the rest of his paintings and drawings?!

A lightbulb was switched on in his head. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? His other pieces! Perhaps he could gather inspiration from them.

After setting his mug on the coffee table, he stood up and walked over to his desk that was shoved into the corner of the room. Paintings, papers and every art tool imaginable littered his desk and the area surrounding it.

He looked through some of his paintings, a few he cringed at, but most were pleasant enough. After he glanced over his still-life of a forest scene, complete with a stag drinking from a brook, he noticed something stuck in-between his works.

“A sketchbook,” Roy muttered to himself. “What is that doing down there?”

He bent over to pick it up and blew some of the dust off of his edges when he’d gotten it. It was old, and it was definitely older than any of his other books he had lying around. He opened it up and read the date that he had written down on the corner of a page.

“This is from my college days…” Roy shook his head. He was unable to believe that he’d been carrying this book for years, and it was in relatively good conditions. He slid his finger down the page, feeling nostalgic about the sketches he put in the book.

“Sonofa-” Roy bit back multiple curses when he got a papercut. Dammit! He even heard the paper slide right across his skin and cut him! Fuck it!

He even dropped his sketchbook, sending various papers within it flying. Cursing like a sailor, Roy bent down and started to collect the sheets of paper. He managed to get every last piece, but then he noticed one resting right underneath his chair.

Setting the other pieces on his desk, he knelt down and went to pick up the last one. His hand froze and his eyes widened in shock when they saw what was drawn on an old menu.

Roy stared at the sketch for what felt like ages. Eventually, he picked up the paper, fingers gently tracing its black and white lines. The sketch was not his own work… but he vividly remembered the person who drew it.

_She was sitting across from him in an old diner, giggling when she saw that Roy had caught her drawing him. He remembered smiling and looking back down at his own menu, allowing her to finish the sketch._

_“Getting my good side?” he chuckled, lightly._

_“Both sides are good sides,” She hummed. Her hand was making quick flicks back and forth, shading in the shadows on his sweater. “And I’m drawing a three quarter shot.”_

_For about a minute or so, neither of them said a word. Roy did his best to stay perfectly still, understanding if an artist’s muse moved it could ruin an entire piece._

_“You have beautiful eyes,” It came out of nowhere, and the words made Roy’s ears burn._

_“They are ugly and grey,” he muttered._

_“Your eyes are beautiful, Roy.”_

_He wanted to shake his head. “They are not-”_

_“Roy, look at me.”_

_“I’ll ruin your sketch.”_

_“Roy,” her voice gently called to him. He cast his gaze to the window. “Please.”_

_He sighed and turned to face her. Roy swore she had the most genuine smile when she said, “They’re wonderful, and I love them.”_

_Roy felt his chest get a little tighter, and he turned his head back so that she could finish drawing him. When she was done, she passed it to him. She ran her hand through her hair, nervously. “Sorry, I might’ve shaded some spots a bit too dark-”_

_“It’s wonderful,” His voice was nothing more than a soft whisper._

_“Roy,” Her hand encased his free hand._

_His heart fluttered, and he met her gaze. “Valerie…”_

The menu had fallen from his fingers, drifting down upon the pile of sketchbooks. He had long forgot about the blank canvas across the room. All he could focus on was how heavy his heart felt He rubbed at his eyes. They were glowing, but he didn’t keep his powers on long enough to figure out which colors were glowing.

Roy growled, softly. _Can’t get distracted by her again…_

He forced himself to try to remember the last time he had a good cup of coffee. It felt like it had been months.

Roy left the picture sitting there on his desk while he went and put on shoes and his coat. He most certainly did not look back at the picture before grabbing his sunglasses and leaving his flat.

After locking his door, he turned around and sighed. “What was the name of that coffee shop that Cold recommended?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The rain had stopped and the temperature had dropped to the point where it was just barely hovering above thirty degrees. It was the perfect morning for hot beverages. Everyone in Central would be waking up and scrambling through the snow to their favorite coffee shop, slamming down their cash and ordering a hot drink.

Bandit's Coffee, opened at three in the morning; they're so busy from the moment the door was unlocked that the workers are never unimpressed at the size of their crowd. Most of their customers were the kind of people who worked strange night hours and came here because there were not that many cops that drove by this part of town. Even some of the famous Rouges showed their faces from time to time. It was all thanks to a little deal that Captain Cold and the owner of Bandit’s struck over a year ago.

Cold and his Rouges ran a special kind of business, and Bandit’s was a business, so they talked business for a few hours. They would show up and pay for coffee and pastries, and the workers would keep their mouths shut. In return for their silence, the Rouges made sure to tell every criminal in the city not to harm Bandit’s or its loyal workers.

The workers never said a word to the CCPD. It was as simple as that. It just wasn’t worth it… And no one wanted to have Heat Wave’s gun pointed right in their face when he could no longer get his boiling hot coffee at three in the morning.

“Hey, Valerie,” The owner, Robin Munch, wiped her hands on her apron and looked over at a young woman stacking cups. “How much milk have we been through so far?”

“Ah, no clue.” Valerie Pastel replied. “It’s been a little hectic, so I haven’t had time to check.”

“Alright, get Jonathan to check on that for me, would ya?” She walked back to the counter and started taking the orders of the customers in line.

Valerie nodded. She turned back to her cups and took in a deep breath, inhaling that smell of ground coffee beans. She’d never get tired of it or the sound of heavy metal blaring in the background of the shop. They were the only things she could bare to stand at this time in the morning.

Working at Bandit’s Coffee was the only steady thing in Valerie’s life at the moment. It was a good job with good pay, but she saw herself picking up her old tools and putting them to use once more.

Valerie sighed and moved a strand of brown hair behind her ear. It seemed just like yesterday when she graduated art school, and now she was giving the Pied Piper his morning latte and muffin.

Strange how things worked out for her. She always wanted to put her art skills to use but never got the chance to do so. After her graduation, her mother suffered a major stroke and died. She had to go out to California to prepare funeral arrangements and care for her father for a few years. She only returned to Central City four months ago when he told her to return to her life.

Her life? Her life would be the one of that of a starving artist if she wasn’t working at Bandit’s. Valerie sighed and pulled some more coffee beans out of the back and let them sit, their aroma filling up the entire room.

She smiled as she placed a chocolate muffin in front of the Pied Piper. He offered a small ‘thank you’ and went on his way.

“Hey, Val, you seem distracted this morning.” One of her coworkers, Ryan, commented as he set down a double shot of espresso with milk.

“Just a bit tired,” She cleared a few crumbs from the counter and dumped them in the trash. The bell at the front door dinged for the tenth million time that morning, and Val turned her attention away from her coworker.

“Hi. What can I get you?”

“Pumpkin Spice Latte, please.”

Val almost rolled her eyes. This was the hundredth time in an hour that someone had asked for a pumpkin spice latte. She knew it was popular and that time of the year, but people couldn’t get enough of it for some reason. “Okay,” she said, pressing a button on one of the machines. It took less than a minute, and Valerie handed the person their coffee. “Here you go,” The paper coffee cup was placed on the counter and tightened the lid on it.

“Thanks,” They grabbed their coffee and placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

“No prob,” Val smiled as she handed her change and placed the money in the register.

It was five now, and their normal early morning rush was slowing down. Valerie took the opportunity to grab her pack of cigarettes and head out front for a quick smoke. She’d just finished her cigarette as a man in a grey coat walked right past her and in the shop.

Time to get back to the grind, she thought. After tossing the last bit of the cigarette into the trash can outside the shop, she walked back in and saw Jonathan taking the man’s order.

“One Rainbow Latte, please.”

Valerie smiled at the order and shut her eyes for a moment, remembering the face of someone special who used to order that latte all the time back when she was in college. She hummed to herself and walked back around the counter and looked at the man who’d ordered it. Her eyes settle on that man in the grey coat with sunglasses on. 

_Strange,_ she thought, _the sun wasn’t even out today._

Once he got his latte, he chose to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs by the window.

Val slowly wiped down the counter and couldn’t shake her gaze from the man. Something about him just seemed so familiar to her…  
The man wasn’t paying attention to anything happening around him; his sunglasses obscured his eyes but the relaxation was clear on his face. He sipped his latte and gave a little smile.

"Robin…" Val beckoned her boss over, and the owner paused, set down her cups, and walked over. "Who’s that guy?" She made a vague gesture to the man in grey.

"Just another costumer,” Robin shrugged. “Dunno, really. I haven’t seen him around before.”

“Is he a…?” _A Rouge?_

Robin shook her head. “No clue. Only really seen Cold, HW, Glider, Piper, Wizard, Boo and the Tricksters around here. We treat all our customers with respect, though.”

“I know,” Val said. “Just wondering…” She couldn’t pin down exactly why she's so intrigued by him. It was probably just the strangeness of someone new showing up. If there was one thing to be said about her job, it was pretty consistent.

She cleaned tables for a while and watched the man in grey while she moved from table to table. He was so familiar that it was killing her! Why couldn’t she remember where she’d seen him before?

When it was just a little past six thirty, he stood up and sauntered out the door, turning the collar up against the chill and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. He turned the corner and caught Valerie’s eyes through the glass window. He froze right then and there in the middle of the sidewalk, like he’d seen a ghost. Val stopped dead where she was standing, too. She was shocked that he seemed to know like he’d seen her before.

Just as quickly as he had stopped dead, he shook his head and began walking down the street. Valerie watched him until he was out of her line of sight and took in a deep breath when he was gone. She took a seat at the table she was cleaning and sighed.

"I know him," she whispered to herself, knowing that saying that will not bring back her memories of him.


End file.
